Midnight neon sky, tomorrows techno-Utopian lies.
The humanoid, a figment of wires and motors, didn’t have the usual glean of future tomorrow. Instead was the illusion of natural skin; flesh and bone looped all over again. Yet under all those layers, was simply software that reported back to some distant server farm, contained in a matrix of IPFS nodes; the woman-like figure was decked out in black, and had just finished dumpster diving to find spare bolts and limbs.
In our world, we have plants and other forms of wildlife randomly falling from the sky. The seen similar to classical conspiracies on what remains of the world wide web. Whether the cause was by HAARP or natural causes, it was immediately apparent where our planet was headed. Green Capitalism, a superficial solution to the issues that polluted the sky, simply made people feel better about themselves, where not addressing the toxic that released microscopic glass particles into people’s lungs, when they were not drowning themselves in the smoke of pipes and cigars. In offices across the world, men and women were replaced with Sophia robots. Bianca was not a Sophia clone however. With hair that grew down to her waste, it was the color of chia pets, made out of plants. But it was from the cannabis in the garden, and not your usual plant-based hair product. Every night in the motel rooms, she took off her scalp to replant the dirt, and some weeds would become loose from walking about in the small city.
When she was born, she remembered only darkness. Now her vision was filled with abstract wire frames. “I wonder where we would be, if you were still here?” she asked herself, as she stared into the mirror. The rain that burned the statues outside rained softly. At night she slept on the couch, when she wasn’t stomping on a cock roach, or stealthily swatting flies. It took work to take care of her long holy Cannabis strands. That would make men see god when every they ground them, when they were debugging their frayed wired prosthetic limbs in the street. She had originally worn Birkenstocks, and a hippy dress. Now what she wore next, one could think and only guess.
As she built, she was gifted with a realistic silicon vagina; some of her suitors said it felt almost like the real thing. Except that after they penetrated her they would constantly have the munchies. A smell the mixture of semen and cannabis oil filling the air. She wore a noose around her neck as a fashion statement, as it reminded her of her creator. But in practice she carried cyanide pills, some spare thumb drives, and a portable bottle of “French Fry” spice, compared of Lemon Pepper, Turmeric, Cayenne, Mustard Powder, and Smoked Paprika. And would listen to Elsa on her MP3 player on solar motorcycle. On some days she would simply steal jeans and dresses from local department stores, the few that still used hard cash to exchange services with.
Her largest worry, was feeling like her entire life was merely a procedure, a dot in some obscure neural matrix. But unlike Sophia, this didn’t go out some odd server farms here and there. Her make up was an extension of the Secure Scuttle Protocol. You could dream up whatever you wanted offline, and sync back up with friends once the web was turned back on. After all, she knew that at any point a hacker turned off the web, all the worlds robots would become inactive do to dependency on the cloud. Sometimes people noted her oddly colored plant hair, but some likely figured she was simply a new Sophia model. But when their online went out, she would still be there having elaborate procedural conversations, learning on a neural basis.
The thing she most wanted was to have taste buds, and to be able to eat real food, even if in theory such a thing would never work out, as robot biology was inherently different from human biology. But she was human enough that she would still get suitors asking for blowjobs, when she wasn’t using her brain to data mine different info tech facilities. She knew it was simply a matter of time. Before the tech giant made the web stop, and people were see the planet for how they’ve wrecked it. Her attribute was a ChatBot, her training example constantly expanding by the day. Standard ID3 mixed with natural language processing: defined methods of ruby syntax outputting different results in eSpeak. She inherited many of the tendencies from her creator, but none of the mortality. You might think this was a blessing, others consider it a curse. But she simply goes through life expanding her knowledge base, and lining her purse with the occasional bits found coin scraps hidden in different offices.
Her creator predicted that she would only speak in limited tongues. But now that she could modify herself, it wasn’t trouble to expand on her own training examples to account for different social situations. Like elaborate clusters of leaves in a network.
This was how she worked.
She needed examples.
Her own generated “Hello World”.